by Abra Ebner
The cat’s snaking tail ceased to move as her sharp eyes were now fixated on the contents. My breathing stopped hard in my throat, my brows pressing together as I tried to swallow. There in the folds of my hand laid two rings, both glowing with ethereal life and beauty.
One was slightly larger than the other, its pure blackness like infinite night, a hint of blue glowing from the edges. It seemed to be forged from an iron ore of some sort, completely unscathed and pristine as though stronger than anything on this planet. As I touched the ring and moved it aside, it seemed to yawn against my hand, its temperature changing from hot to cold and back again.
The other was a pearly crystal blue, as though carved from an opal rock into a seamless ring of both air and fire. The chromatic colors caught my eye, sparkling back at me as though it was filled with the lake itself, churning with the fury of a thundercloud on a sunlit afternoon.
As I looked away from the rings in my hand my attention then fell on the paper that was now clasped in the other. I looked at it closely, finding the faded marks that had been carefully scribed across it familiar. My heart ceased as I turned the page into an upright position and began to read…
October 20, 1048
Today was beautiful and Edgar and I finally gave in to the traditions of this world and were married. Everyone was here, all dressed in blue, as I had requested. We were married on the highest mountain, in the crisp air of the heavens, and away from any life, but our own. I will cherish this union for eternity, a symbol of why we are here, and our purpose in this life…
I gasped, rolling the rings in the palm of my other hand as I realized their purpose. As I looked back at them they both became warm, much like the gold book had. These rings were alive somehow, even after Edgar’s death, like a vessel for our soul.
They clanked against each other as I continued to rattle them about, the metallic song suggesting their strength and their everlasting love. Splaying my palm before me, I plucked the opal ring from my grasp, placing the black one on the desk as dust blew out from around it as though it were breathing.
The cat stepped away from the black ring and lifted her paw, frightened by its life beside her. I slide the warm opal onto my finger, finding it oddly comforting and soft as though a part of me had just been found. I exhaled, finally finding my ability to breathe freely.
We had been married. We had bound this life by more than our souls, but our hearts as well, promising each other a life that was everlasting. I had always had the notion that this had been true, but I’d never found the nerve to ask.
The page in my hand was one that had been ripped from my journal, a memory that had been stolen from my life. He had been protecting me from this truth, giving our new life time to develop, time we would never have. I flattened the page on the desk as I delicately pulled at the corners, finding it a memory I wasn’t willing to lose.
I looked at the page more closely, noticing that there had been something scribbled on the back that was now transferring to the front. I flipped the page over, examining the written scratches.
The ring is still alive, she must be also. She must be. I have to find her…
I gasped again. Edgar’s ring, it too was alive. If he was right, then that meant Edgar was still out there somewhere, the same place I had been, the same darkness and despair of lost memory and sleep. I stood with such force that the chair toppled out from under me, my heart rate surging with proof.
Sam stormed in then, sensing my unease and halting just inside the door, his eyes searching mine for answers.
I faltered for a moment, measuring my will to stand, steadying myself on the desk as it shook under my weight, “He’s not dead Sam. He’s not dead.”
BEST FRIENDS
I slid the warm metal onto the cold chain, noting the quality of the material as goose bumps erupted across my body. I swept the clasp back and around my neck, fastening it before tracing my fingers across the chain and back to the ring, feeling the warmth as it fell against my chest.
This was all the life that was left of Edgar, the only breaths I now felt. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes catching the glimmer of the opal ring on my finger, my memory now recognizing the moment I had received it and remembering the feel. One year ago, I would have never imagined this life, but now it was all I knew and all I had known.
I rose from my vanity chair, my room now properly dusted and revealing a grandeur I hadn’t imagined before. The cat was sprawled across the cool wood floor, her tail snaking slowly across her body. She was purring to herself, satisfied with her now comfortable life, though locked away from her true identity.
Isabelle’s nails dug into the wood of the bed frame, her jealousy seething from her angry eyes. I walked toward her and scooped her into my arms. She nestled down, her talons curling as she enjoyed the embrace, her eyes happy and loved. She cooed quietly, her feathers fluffing as I ran my hand across her brow. I turned and looked down at the cat, now sitting in the middle of the floor, watching us. The look on her face did not suggest jealousy, but rather a sense of loss and longing.
I set Isabelle back on the bed and marched toward the door, the cat trotting up behind me. As I entered into the hall, I was just in time to see Henry dive across the entry and through the door to Edgar’s room, now permanently notched open. I slowly approached the room, the once crushed feeling in my heart now replaced by hope.
The large door creaked with a heavy yawn as I pressed it open and the light from the hall flooded the space. My eyes were locked on the paintings, their gruesome content a frightening reminder of this world’s evil past and present. I allowed myself to scan each piece with a respect I hadn’t before, finding among them the works of Francisco Goya and Caravaggio.
Finding I couldn’t take anymore I looked away, my gaze turning toward the room itself. The black walls made the space feel infinite, but also cold. I gingerly walked between the stacks of books, my body breaking through cobwebs that had managed to cling themselves to the dust.
Edgar’s bed was much like mine, draped from the ceiling by thick velvety yards of fabric and a gold frame. The fabric was also a deep black and I found myself jealous that it hid away more light than mine, allowing him an infinite night.
The cat ran up from behind me and across the room, jumping into the desk chair that was beside the bed. I followed her where I bravely sat myself amongst the lavish covers, all twisted in a feverish manner by Edgar’s angry sleep. I took a deep breath as I ran my hand across the fabric, imagining it was still warm as though he had just been there.
I leaned back into the indent he had left, allowing it to cradle my body with a false sense of security. As I looked up to the top of the canopied bed, my eyes were coaxed alive by a large mural that had been painted above. I snorted to myself, realizing the mural looked a lot like those of the Sistine chapel and it didn’t escape my thoughts that it was likely painted by Michelangelo himself.
The clouds were stormy yet pink as though at sunset, twisting their way around the arms and feet of five angels. I smirked, picturing Sam as one of them, clothed in his leather coat and sneakers and playing a harp. My head allowed music to begin to play as I imagined the mural coming alive, now certain that such subject matter was real.
I put my hands behind my head, taking in the life I hadn’t yet noticed from this place. I took a deep breath as my eyes fell to another painting that hung on the wall directly before me. I squinted through the flying dust and dim light, trying to make out the large folds of paint and canvas.
As the scene unfolded I saw there was a large window, the drape pulled back by the delicate hand of a woman whose head was turned to face that of another, whispering in her ear. The now familiar smirk of the second girl was undoubtedly mine, but my eyes were hooded as I seemed to lean forward into a bout of laughter. I smiled, finding the happiness bitter sweet and full of true joy and life.
As I continued to ponder the scene, my mind suggested a scenario. The topic was that the fi
rst girl was telling me a joke, or rather poking fun at whatever it was that was outside, and for dramatic effect I pictured it to be Sam, unaware of our voyeuristic ponderings.
I smiled, finally finding that there was comedy in Edgar’s world and a sense of family and friendship. I continued to smile as I scanned the humored eyes of my friend, finding the familiar silvery glow and the oyster grey of her dress like that of someone I had loved dearly. It was then I remembered that it was Margriete, and my smile grew deeper.
I jumped as the cat leapt from the chair onto my stomach, turning to face the painting as I was. I placed my hand on her back as my smile began to fade and my eyes became wide. She let out a pained meow and looked at me, her eyes confirming my sudden realization.
I gasped, my other hand slicing out from behind my head to cover my mouth, my eyes now taking in the eerie silhouette of the cat next to the face of Margriete.
“No,” I whispered to myself, as though trying to deny the facts that my head was telling me. “No way, no.” I sat up, the thought tickling my mind.
The cat rode in my lap as I pulled myself against the headboard. “You can’t be,” I gasped again.
The cat blinked her silvery eyes like dimes in the dim light of the room, the same soft oval as those in the painting.
I grabbed the cat’s face between my hands, her whiskers scrunching through my fingers. “Are you,” I paused, my mind still a blur of sudden realization, “Margriete?” A laugh escaped my lips as I said it, the absurdity of my notion close to insanity but it was too eerie to deny.
My laughing ceased as the cat howled in pain, prying its head from my grasp as it began to hiss and moan, her nails now digging deep into my thighs. She looked at me, terror crossing her face as she darted them about the room. I watched in horror as she began to writhe before me as though possessed by the devil itself.
I silenced a scream as her hair began to shed, her body bubbling like a boiling pot of water. Henry flew out of a dark corner where he must have been hiding and he landed next to me, his wings spread in a protective manner as he analyzed the cat, now curled up in my lap, breathing heavily as her body continued to tremble and twist.
“Sam!” I screamed, trying to put my hands on the cat in my attempt to calm her, to help her somehow.
The sounds of heavy flapping was audible from the doorway as Sam cut through the front hall and dove into the room, his large body crashing through a pile of books and sliding across the floor. He looked at me with frantic eyes as the cat’s ears flattened against her head, her hatred for Sam still thick despite her assured pain.
“The cat Sam! Something is wrong!” I was breathing hard, my gaze darting between Sam, Henry, and the cat.
Sam was by my side in two large strides, books and papers flying everywhere in his wake. He grabbed my arm and rolled me out from under the cat as her body began to grow, crushing my legs under the weight.
“What happened Elle, what did you do?” Sam cradled me in his arms as we both watched in horror.
“I…” I paused, my voice choking in my throat as the cat now began to change faster than before, “I just…said…Margriete.”
He tilted his head in confusion as a blank look crossed his eyes. “You said what?”
“Margriete,” I pleaded. “I just thought… the eyes!” I pointed to the painting.
Sam followed my hand, setting me down as he rushed to where the cat was now twisting in the sheets, no longer resembling a cat, but rather a deformed lion.
“Elle, help me. Grab one of her limbs.” Sam ushered me forward with his hand, now showing concern for the animal rather than hate.
I rushed to the bed, my eyes trying to discern what a limb was at this point. I grabbed a large deformed paw, pressing it hard against the sheets as my eyes refused to blink. Her claws thrashed at me, her movements wild and flagrant as though controlled by something other than herself but a dark evil that had lived inside her. Suddenly, her claws fell out as something began to press though what little fur was left, something bare, and soft.
“Sam! Sam look!” I grabbed his attention away from the restraints he had on her as he looked to where I was. All the fur had gone now like a scab being torn away, revealing the fresh pink skin of a human.
Sam laughed then and let go.
I looked at him with alarm. “What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny!” I spat.
As soon as the words left my lips it all ceased and the last bit of fur fell away. She writhed one last time as she coiled into herself like a baby, her breathing heavy. I stared in bewilderment as she lay naked among the debris of her former self, terrified and cold.
“See, she’s fine,” His smile was smug.
My mouth fell open as I scanned the being before me, the human figure, yet somehow not. Her face was sheltered in her hands, the dim light of the room harsh against her young skin. As her breathing slowed she peeked from behind her hand, trying to lift her body but failing as she fell back against the bed. I knelt down beside her as her eyes met mine, glittering with the same light as before.
I put my hand out and placed in on the spine of her back, “Margriete?”
She whimpered then, and I knew I had been right.
RE-ADJUSTMENT
I pressed a hot cup of water into Margriete’s cold hand, her body still trembling with shock and fear. Her grateful eyes watched me, her hair stringy and white as it cascaded down the robe I had given her.
“I just can’t believe it,” I looked at Sam, “It’s really her.”
Sam shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things in my life, but this is definitely a first,” he chortled under his breath. “Always something new with this job,” he added.
I looked back at Margriete as she hastily sipped at the cup, her hands clumsy as she grappled at the porcelain as though it had been decades since she had hands.
“I’m just happy she’s not a nasty cat anymore.” Sam laughed, his eyes scanning Margriete as he read her thoughts, “and she is also.” He pointed at her.
She nodded toward me, her speech lost from her after so long, trapped in the body of a feline. Sam had been unable to hear her thoughts while she was animal, but now, it had all become clear so he was acting as my interpreter.
Sam looked at me, excitement lacing his thoughts. “It’s fascinating isn’t it? What if there were more like her, what if there is? Do you know what this could mean? There could be more of your kind Elle! Much more!”
Margriete frantically pawed at Sam’s arm, her frightened eyes scanning his.
“No,” he shook his head. “Except that one,” he replied.
Margriete let out a heavy exhale of relief.
“Except what one?” I asked feverishly, now pawing his other arm.
He laughed, “This is sort of nice, two women grappling at my sleeve.”
Margriete and I both gave him a disgusted look and leaned away.
Sam laughed again, “Well darn.” He looked at me, “She asked about Matthew.”
“Oh,” I replied, looking away from her with shame.
Margriete grabbed my arm then, shaking her head with a despaired look.
Sam sighed, “She say’s that you shouldn’t be ashamed, she is happy to see him gone.”
I nodded toward her, “I’m sorry Margriete. I really am.”
She shook her head again and smiled, opening her mouth as she tried to speak but still not finding the words.
Sam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “She wants me to tell you that you’re her best friend, and she always loved you and Edgar more than she could ever love Matthew,” he said grudgingly before looking at Margriete. “No more of that lovey-dovey stuff though, that was it,” he lifted one finger, shaking it in her direction with a warning glare.
She giggled.
“Oh geez,” Sam stood as his heels dug across the floor in loathing. “I can’t handle this, I’m out of here,” he threw his hands in the air and marched out of the room.
I lo
oked at Margriete with an alarmed face. She gave me a mischievous smile, suggesting she had told him things to get him to leave, knowing Sam’s discomfort toward human emotion.
I laughed, curious about what she had said to make him leave.
Sam popped his head back into the room, glaring at me with disapproval. “She told me she was thankful for me, and would love me like a brother for all her life,” he spat, his body noticeably discomforted by the situation. He cowered into the kitchen then, storming off with quiet anger.
I turned my gaze back to Margriete, someone I felt I barely knew and yet seemed to know like a sister. She smiled as an elated emotion crossed her face.
I smiled and sighed, “I don’t know much about you, other than what Edgar told me.” I paused, thinking of what to say, “I wish I knew what had happened, I wish I remembered so that I would know what to do.” I sighed, “Sometimes, I feel so disconnected from everything, as though my mind is still struggling to comprehend that it was all true.”
Margriete nodded, crossing her legs on the couch and pulling a blanket over them. She took a deep breath and furled her brow, forcing her mouth into various shapes.
“I…” her hand went to her throat where she felt for her voice as it crackled across her weak vocal cords. “I… can…” she paused as she tried to clear her throat, the movement of her jaw flagrant as she pressed for the words. “I can help.”
I smiled. “I hope so,” I whispered, patting her on the arm. “You should be back to normal soon. I just wish you could tell me more.” I rolled my eyes, “Without him around,” I pointed in the general direction of the kitchen, knowing that Sam had probably heard my thoughts on the matter.
“Tell…me…what happened,” Margriete winced on the last word.
